


Untouched

by Tebby_Sweet



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Slow Build, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:35:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6110991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tebby_Sweet/pseuds/Tebby_Sweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The infected cannot be rehabilitated.</p>
<p>That was the iron rule.</p>
<p>In a world where survival takes everything you have and being bitten is a death sentence, trust can be both a strong and fragile thing.</p>
<p>NOTE:</p>
<p>This story will be considered strongly AU from the middle of the prison falling sequence. Without giving away everything, it will deal more deeply than the show with the science behind the virus and the implications of the virus and a bite. Almost everything is MY TAKE on these things, as Robert Kirkman has revealed next to nothing. As I said, most people will consider this strongly AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untouched

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback for this particular fic would be greatly appreciated- I'd like to know that there's an audience for such a wildly AU fic. I personally can't get enough stories like this, but everyone I talk to thinks I should stick to the given world and facts.
> 
> I just want to say one more time that this story will be considered STRONGLY AU. It's based on the little that was revealed about the walkers brain functions at the end of season one, but is my own take on everything else about walkers and the virus. If this doesn't sound like your type of fic, turn back now! For those interested, I hope to satisfy & I hope you enjoy! :)

 

 

**GOVERNMENT URGES CITIZENS**

**TO REMAIN CALM**

 

By **Sandra Willower**

Outbreak Reporter

_November 27 th, 2003_

 

The World Health Organization warned on the last emergency broadcast transmitted Thursday that the epidemic spreading rapidly across the globe is escalating swiftly. The situation, at first seemingly contained to small areas of the United States of America, has exploded beyond the control of health officials.

Since the beginning of the viral outbreak across the nation mere weeks ago, the majority of broadcast information has come to a halt. The origins of the virus are still unknown, as is much about this horrifyingly deadly disease, but the WHO are assuring us of two things:

 

THIS VIRUS IS TRANSMITTED THROUGH THE BITES AND SCRATCHES OF THE INFECTED AND IS CURRENTLY NOT TREATABLE.

 

THERE IS NO KNOWN VACCINE OR CURE AT THIS TIME. THE INFECTED CANNOT BE REHABILITATED.

 

President Barlow also instructed all citizenry over his last emergency broadcast to avoid the infected and to immediately contact the NEVO (National Emergency Viral Outbreak) force for all cases of viral contamination. He also informed the people once more to relocate to their nearest DOS (Disease Outbreak Shelter) and remain there until further notice. The President has urged all citizenry to above all, remain calm. Repeat, REMAIN CALM. Help is on the way.

 

President Barlow ended his emergency broadcast with one final message, the same as the WHO have released:

 

AVOID THE INFECTED AT ALL COST. DO NOT ENGAGE OR INITATE CONTACT, AND EMPLOY EXTREME DEFENSIVE MEASURES IF NECESSARY. THE INFECTED CANNOT BE REHABILITATED. DO NOT APPROACH. THE INFECTED CANNOT BE REHABILITATED.

 

* * *

 

Daryl snorted derisively under his breath before crumpling the brittle, faded newspaper article into a ball and tossing it to the side. He wasn't sure which part had been bigger horseshit; the former President telling everyone to contact the NEVO and head to the nearest DOS, or urging the people to remain calm. That help was coming. As if they had ever stood a chance, ever had a fucking clue what they were dealing with. Dipshits.

“Glenn, how are we coming on food?” Rick called out from the other room where he was busy picking through closets and dressers for anything useful.

“I've got some canned stuff, and some packaged things. Not a lot, but it's more than we had,” Glenn called back. Daryl shook his head in agitation; he needed to go hunting, find some real food to get everyone up and moving faster again. They were slowing down, trudging along tiredly as they fought their hunger, living off berries and nuts and the occasional squirrel. There were too many of them to feed properly when they had to split up the food, what little of it they had.

He shook his shaggy hair out of his eyes and moved on down the hallway, away from Rick and Glenn's voices. The floor was clean in this house, unblemished. Untouched. It was unusual for a home these days not to show signs of the mass panic that had swept over the world; upturned tables, smashed glass, blood on the walls and...

Blood. There was blood on the ceiling.

Daryl stared hard at the single dark pool of blood above him for a moment, trying unsuccessfully to put two and two together, before he saw the outline of the crawl space. It was gaping open just barely, allowing the leakage over the pristine white paint. Daryl raised his crossbow as he eyed it more carefully; he hadn't heard any movement in the house yet, but then he hadn't been paying very close attention for an attic.

“Daryl, you down there?” Carol called quietly as she moved into the hall looking for him.

Not quietly enough.

Above him he heard a thump, followed by a muffled shuffling sound. He tried to count the number of footsteps but they sounded spread out, making it difficult. There was another thump almost directly above him, near the slightly open crawl space door. Daryl started backing down the hallway slowly, keeping his eyes and crossbow fixed on the small patch of ceiling. Carol came to a halt somewhere behind him, and he heard her pull her knife back out with a near silent hiss. He wondered absently why she'd ever bothered putting it up in the first place; it didn't matter where they went, nowhere was ever safe. Nowhere was untouched.

“Get back and tell the others to quit screwing around. That doors gonna make a lot of noise if it falls, we don't need to be hanging out here,” Daryl muttered. He felt rather than saw Carol nod and then she was gone. He continued retreating, nearing the open door at the end of the hallway. As was the usual with this group and their luck though, shit went wrong pretty quick.

From the kitchen he heard a small shriek, followed by the loud, unmistakable sound of shattering glass. Daryl couldn't even spare the energy to be surprised. That was just how it went down around here.

He reached the doorway just as the ceiling door dropped open, the metal ladder attached to it crashing to the hardwood ground with a bang like a cannon. Two walkers tumbled immediately out after it, one splitting its head and spilling brains out over the once pristine floor; the other ambled to its feet as three more dropped from the ceiling.

Daryl froze for just a moment as one of the walkers got to its feet and turned its dead, hollow gaze on him. Her mouth gaped, split open at one side along her face, and her shoulder was just a large, black, decaying wound. But she was young, just a child, and for a second he saw Sophia even though the walker actually looked nothing like her. Then he slammed the door shut between them, pushing the image aside in his brain as the group snuck out the back of the house wearily, footsteps swift and silent as they avoided the dead outside who had began converging on the home, pushing in through the now open back door.

Nothing stayed clean in this world anymore.

No one was untouched.

 

* * *

 

The infected were spreading throughout this home quickly after the group inside abandoned it. They poured in through the open back door and in after her as she entered through the front. She moved slowly, her shuffling companions alongside her.

The woman briefly examined the infected ones around her, darting eyes seemingly finding what they sought very quickly as she moved through the kitchen alongside the growing throng of bodies. The door ahead leading out of the kitchen into the other part of the house was shut, and she considered leaving it and moving on. She paused in front of it though, listening to the restless shifting on the other side, her companions quiet and tame at her side.

Too quiet.

The infected around them seemed to be growing agitated, moving around quicker, snarling in frustration as they sought exactly what was off about something in this room.

It had been happening more and more frequently as of late. She couldn't risk their safety on an unlikely chance. It was time to go.

She regarded the door for a moment more before turning and heading out of the house the same way the group before her had left. She didn't need to tug the rope in her hands for her escorts to follow. They stumbled along after her of their own accord; wide, staring eyes fixed on the woman in front of them, arms swinging uncoordinately at their sides

They left the house behind and picked slowly through the growing crowd, not lingering long enough to attract any more unwanted attention. The woman studied the area outside thoughtfully. It was apparent that the group ahead of her had forged on further into the little town, probably searching for more supplies. She had planned to do the same, but couldn't risk an encounter with such a well armed group, so she veered off the main road and back into the surrounding trees, the steady sound of halting footsteps behind her. She probably wasn't going to find what she was looking for in this place, anyway; it was all spoiled, long past the point of no return. It was the same everywhere these days, it seemed.

Everything was spoiled in this world.

No one was untouched.


End file.
